


Did It Happen?

by TransformersG1fan271



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Guns love and tentacles spoilers ahead!!, I am so happy for them, I finished it and aaahhh, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:34:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25652956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TransformersG1fan271/pseuds/TransformersG1fan271
Summary: It's a morning filled with confusion and fears, but as long as they had each other, it would be alright.
Relationships: Sir Hammerlock/Wainwright Jakobs
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Did It Happen?

**Author's Note:**

> Guns, Love and Tentacles spoilers, be warned!

The room he wakes up in is warm and dark, a slice of light peeking from between some curtains to his left. The edge of the light lingers on hazel hair laced with grey, and for a moment he stares.

It’s when he catches sight of dried blood hidden just beneath the surface, that the bits of the previous night come back.

_Alistair is being suffocated. He can hear the Vault Hunters fighting below, fighting Eleanor Olmstead and her husband._

_Her husband, who is wearing his beloved Wainwright like a fucking used suit._

_He had tried to call out to Winny, call to his beloved and bring him out of Vincent Olmstead’s control. Instead, a tentacle had wrapped around Alistair’s throat and was choking the very life from his being. The hunter did his best to keep breathing, but the fleshy area fading from his view only dragged his hopes further and further away._

_Winny, I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough…_

One eye goes wide before the man, Alistair Hammerlock, jerks back and off of his bed. Hitting the hardwood floor barely registered to the man, singular hand trembling as it instinctively covered his throat. The skin was so sensitive, throat burning with each breath shuddering he took, it was all too much. Alistair wanted to vomit, heart pulsing louder and louder in his ears as he tried to take in his surroundings in the dim morning light. Something rests on his shoulder, and Alistair nearly jumps before in the blink of his remaining eye, someone is kneeling right in front of him. Brown eyes, _beautiful brown eyes_ that aren’t rimmed with black tracks or glowing a cursed green, are looking at him with concern and love. 

_“Winny…”_ Wainwright says nothing when Alistair leans forward, pulling him into a kiss. Alistair doesn’t care that his neck protests, blinking away the black dots in his eye as he kisses his husband’s lips. Yes, husband! He and Wainwright had married, the hunter so out of it he had agreed to Wainwright’s rushing insistence of marrying in the bowels of a now-dead ancient being. It had been for the best, Alistair needing assistance from Zane when his mechanical leg had finally given out sometime during the walk back, having been crushed during the time he had chased after Wainwright and had gone missing. The party had been pushed off, the rather late guests taken aside by the newest Vault Hunters as he and Wainwright had retired to their room. The hunter wants to cry when Wainwright pulls back, but only bites the inside of his cheek as he is helped up and onto the bed. Their bloodied clothes, perfectly tailored white suits at one time now stained red and black, sat crumpled up by the door, poorly hidden with a towel. Alistair's leg is on one of the writing desks, his arm neatly beside it and almost cleared from the blood and viscera from the dead eldritch horror. The silence is oppressive, Alistair staring up as he laid back, trying to give his green and purple mottled neck support from the pain. 

_“Alistair…”_ There is no second voice buzzing in the back of Alistair’s mind, chanting _THE HEART STILL BEATS, THE HEART STILL BLEEDS_. Wainwright sees the way Alistair clenches his fist and moves his own shaking hands to gently hold it. He hadn’t expected Alistair to jerk out of bed, the hunter looking so frightened and lost that it nearly brought tears from Wainwright’s eyes. Alistair was the strong one, resilient and his rock, ready to dash into danger and come out with nary a scratch. Instead, he looked very much the opposite, trying his damnedest not to cry in front of his husband while he was on borderline hyperventilation. Under the bruising, Wainwright could see the telltale mark of a tentacle suction cup on the side of Alistair’s neck, and he suddenly wanted to vomit. Instead, the Edenian moves to lie beside his husband, ever so carefully slipping his arm under Alistair’s neck to draw him close. There is a choked noise, but the hunter says nothing as he curls into Wainwright’s side, shaky breaths leaving him faster and faster each time. Hammerlock still hadn’t recovered fully from his time in the Anvil, and to only see what were undoubtedly such a small portion of his injuries upset Wainwright something fierce.

_“I thought I lost you.”_ Neither knows who spoke first, but their mingled confessions both weigh on them, yet free some of the crushing pressure on their chests. Wainwright is the first, a tear dripping down his cheek as he nestles his nose into Alistair’s hair, pressing kiss after kiss to his husband's forehead. The scent of gunpowder, leather, and earth grounds him, something that he desperately needs right now. Alistair isn’t very far behind, sniffling as tears begin to fall from his eye. He isn’t ashamed, gripping Wainwright’s nightshirt as if to tether the other to him, lest he is lost the moment Alistair lets go. Whiskey, shaved metal, and smoke are prevalent when he is able to breathe, only making the tears come faster. They lay there, quietly crying and taking in the other before finally, they lull to a neutral state. Making the first move, Alistair forces himself to slowly sit up, wheezing as his back protests and before he can slump over, Winny is there and cradling him upright. 

_“Winny…”_ He doesn’t know what to say, wincing as he is finally stable enough to sit. Wainwright moves, snatching the closest med-pack and carefully injecting some of the red liquid into Alistair’s neck. It hurts at first, but soon the numbness spreads, and most of the intermediate wounds slowly stop aching, the bruising now appearing days old. Carefully testing his arm, Alistair is pleased that his back does not protest, and his neck only aches when he turns too fast. The empty pack is disposed of, and when Wainwright turns around, Alistair gets a good look. 

Wainwright looks...apprehensive. His left hand is twitching out a rhythm against his leg, and the man seems to keep looking around as if expecting things to change. His eyes, no longer black or glowing, look heavy, his face still marred slightly by the black curse that had been forced upon his body for over two weeks now. Alistair feels nothing but hatred for the now deceased Olmstead’s as he carefully gets onto his one leg. It’s unseemly as he all but hops over to Wainwright, who seemed to realize that Hammerlock needed to do this on his own. Using his husband as support, Alistair looks down into those brown eyes and only sees uncertainty and barely-disguised fear lingering even further underneath. 

_“Am I here Alistair?”_ His question is barely a whisper, and all Alistair can do is to reach up and caress Wainwright’s face with a soft hush.

_“As assuredly as we breathe air. You are here, and you are married to me.”_ He can see relief well up in those beautiful eyes, and Alistair gives a soft smile of assurance. He had no idea what his other half went through, remembering the wild look in his eye when he was freed, having vomited up what looked like black tar after The Heart had been destroyed. FL4K had held Wainwright up, silent as a hysterical Hammerlock rushed over and took hold of his lover.

_“I trust you, my dear...I cannot trust myself in these times.”_ Wainwright never admitted to anything, no, if anything bothered the Jakobs then it damn well stayed inside his head. For him to speak it without hesitation made Alistair’s stomach churn. He only nods, and they stand for a few moments before Wainwright helps Alistair to freshen up. The bath they take is tense, Alistair’s numerous bruises making Wainwright clearly upset, almost hesitant to touch Alistair until the hunter guides his hands. In return, Alistair can’t stop staring at Wainwright’s body, which could only be described as runes now marked across his body as if they had always been there. It doesn’t matter however, Alistair eventually just holding the other as close to his body as possible.

_“I love you, Winny, I love you more than I can ever say.”_ He feels his lover all but melts into his embrace, and Alistair finally feels the first fringes of calm wash over him.

_“I love you too Alistair, an’ I’ll always be the first ta say it.”_ It’s a small joke between them, Wainwright the first to blurt out the words before Alistair could, and he feels Alistair’s chest vibrate with a soft laugh. Eventually, they get out of the slowly cooling water, Alistair digging out his spare leg after putting on his mostly cleaned arm. The door looks almost foreboding as if the terrors from the last weeks were just waiting to strike.

Yet as they took each other's hand, those fears seemed so much weaker as Wainwright opened the door. Nothing would ever get between them again, the Jakobs-Hammerlock’s would make sure of it.


End file.
